


Blasphemy

by Her_Madjesty



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Adults Masquerading As Moody Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Masochism, Masturbation, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Madjesty/pseuds/Her_Madjesty
Summary: “I never took you for a voyeur,” Wolfgang says, at last. He sounds broken, ragged, and the pain in Kala’s chest threatens to overwhelm her.“I’m not,” she tells him. “You came to me first.”





	Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

> *claps hands together* what a wonderful ship for sexual tension and angst. I don't even have to do any of the work! Hope you folks like the story, though ;) XOXO

Kala’s knees ache, but she doesn’t rise from her place in front of Ganesha’s shrine. Instead, she forces her body lower to the pressed floor of the temple, burrowing further into herself as she mutters her way through her prayers.

She’s been seated for over an hour, ignoring the comings and goings of the other devout. The noise in the temple, usually so warm and overwhelming, has dropped to near nothingness. Now only the occasional clunking of footsteps or the soft ringing of prayer bells breaks through her meditation.

There is no ring on her fourth finger, right or left hand. Rajan’s band lies, instead, near the base of Ganesha’s wide feet. Kala can see it whenever she opens her eyes, so she keeps them slammed shut or fixed on the rust-colored floor. She repeats her quiet prayers, waiting for something – any drop of divine wisdom – to break through the worry fixed in her mind.

Sweat drips down her back as she presses herself closer to the floor. Her long nails make too much noise as they tap against the stone; Kala winces, but continues to wait. She keeps her eyes closed and listens. She settles. She breathes.

“Do you really think this is going to work?”

Kala shoots upright, wincing as pain lances through her back. Nomi, lounging at the base of Ganesha’s alter, winces in sympathy. She has a bowl of watermelon cradled in her hand; when she sees where Kala is, she’s quick to wipe the dripping juice away from her mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Kala asks. It’s a bit too short, but Nomi’s sympathetic expression doesn’t change.

“You’re in my head, remember?” she says. “You’ve been praying nonstop, and I can feel your anxiety spiking. _And_ your knees hurt, which means mine are killing me, too.”

“Oh.” Guilt reawakens in Kala’s stomach, and she shuffles, trying to make herself more comfortable. Pain spikes through her knees, spiraling up into her back and neck. Both Kala and Nomi wince.

It takes a moment, but the grimace on Nomi’s face eventually melts back to sympathy. “Why are you doing this?” she asks, setting her watermelon aside.

Kala lets out a sigh through her nose. “I’ve tried looking at the facts,” she says. “I’ve made lists of the benefits of marriage as compared to the detriments, and they’ve come out too equal for me to make a proper decision.” She motions towards the statue of Ganesha. “I’m hoping that Ganesha will guide me where my own logic will not.”

Nomi descends from the alter to come and settle at Kala’s side. She crosses her hands in her lap, but not before brushing some of Kala’s hair out of her face.

The apartment Nomi and Amanita are holed up in is quiet, quieter even than Kala’s temple. Kala lets out a relieved noise as she settles on Nomi’s couch. Nomi shoots her an “I told you so” expression, but Kala only waves her away.

Across the apartment, Amanita is settled at a card table, two computers out in front of her along with a large stack of books. Nomi has her own legion of devices positioned around her like a nest, but Kala can tell that her attention is not focused on them.

“Look,” Nomi says. “Big decisions aren’t easy to make. They’re life changing, and I’ve never met anybody who isn’t afraid of changing their lives. But sometimes breaking away from the things that make you feel comfortable – the things that make you feel safe – they’re what’ll make your life all the better.”

Amanita looks up from her computer and smiles, first at Nomi, then at the empty space next to her. Kala knows that Amanita can’t see her, but she waves at her, anyway.

“Kala says hi,” Nomi tells her.

“Hi, Kala!” Amanita’s voice is bell-like. Kala can feel the warmth welling in Nomi’s chest and smiles despite herself.

Nomi glances at her sidelong, her own smile knowing.

Kala’s expression drops. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”

“It never does,” Nomi agrees. Something pings on the computer nearest to her. She turns to it with a frown, but she doesn’t stop speaking. “I think you know what you want to do, Kala. Now it’s just a matter of finding the courage to do it.”

Nomi disappears with a frown, and Kala is back on her knees in Ganesha’s temple, aching and bent and staring at Rajan’s ring.

She closes her eyes and presses her forehead to the ground, trying her best to get her bearings. One hand twitches forward, ready to grab the ring and go, but Kala resists. She focuses instead on the bend of her body, forcing herself inward with new prayers on her lips.

She doesn’t know what Ganesha makes of her cluster – though she believes he’s used them as signs before. She knows them to be people, though – they are no more messengers of the divine than she is, regardless of how much she loves them. They have agendas and wants and desires that don’t always align with hers; she trusts them intimately, but this -

This feels bigger than them.

Kala presses her head to the edge of Ganesha’s shrine and tries not to scream.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, bent in half by devotion. She thinks that Sun visits, maybe; she knows she feels Capheus at her back, but she doesn’t look up, can’t bring herself to talk to anyone at all. There’s a pounding in her head that threatens to become unbearable, and the whole of her body is quivering, too hot to be normal. Kala wants to rise and run to the nearest fountain, strip herself of her clothes and offer herself to whichever god feels most sympathetic.

If she opens her eyes again, though, she knows the decision she faces will have already been made.

So she waits.

Time passes.

She’s only vaguely aware when a presence appears before her, settling on the step of Ganesha’s shrine. Kala doesn’t open her eyes, but the air around her grows chilled, and she tastes cigarette smoke on the back of her too-dry tongue.

An ankle brushes against her wrist. She hears Wolfgang let out a grunt, then a long sigh. Something is moving, skin against skin; it’s too quiet, though, for Wolfgang to be anything but alone.

Kala opens her eyes.

Wolfgang keeps his mattress on the floor; it is simple with clean sheets. It’s no surprise that his leather jacket and pants have been abandoned near his door. It’s not a surprise, either, that he’s naked.

The surprise comes from the tension between his brow, lingering in his jaw. His eyes are closed, too, and his back is bent. His cock, red and wanting, has grown thick in his hand, but for the pleasure of what he’s doing, he looks like he’s in pain.

Kala stares. A shock of arousal rushes across her skin, mulling but refusing to mix with the sadness welling in her chest. Without a thought she shuffles forward, ignoring the pain in her knees to better rest scant inches from Wolfgang’s own.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but she knows that he must sense her. Her eyes keep dropping from his face, no matter how hard she tries to focus. Her body feels like a live wire, and she wants to touch him, but she forces herself to keep her hands at her sides.

It doesn’t last. She reaches out despite herself and wipes a drop of sweat from Wolfgang’s brow. The lines there soften, if just for a moment, but they reappear as Kala’s hand drops away.

He’s still seated just in front of the statue of Ganesha, the air around him pugnant with incense and silent. Kala watches, a burst of shame shooting through her, but she doesn’t dare speak a word, doesn’t dare ask him to stop.

(He blocks Rajan’s ring from view; it is this, perhaps, that keeps Kala’s throat swollen shut.)

Wolfgang’s jaw loosens, his mouth falling open; he bites his too-red bottom lip and swears in his native tongue. Kala forces herself to swallow. She moves forward another inch, her hands hovering and her body hot. She’s tingling all over, impatient and wanting.

Wolfgang still does not open his eyes. He bends in on himself, hand moving faster, and Kala whimpers as his grip on himself tightens. His legs spread wide. She wants to touch him, wants it so badly she could faint, but he’s silent and cold and unmoved by the Mumbai heat. Kala wonders, still staring, who it is he’s thinking of and why this has brought him to her.

Her lips are dry.

Her knees start bleeding.

Wolfgang’s mouth drops open further, and his tongue darts out, licking away the sweat that’s gathered at his lips. Kala feels a moan burst forth from her chest.

Wolfgang starts.

His eyes remain closed, but the hand on his cock slows. He leans back, straightening out his spine, and tilts his head as though he’s unsure.

“I never took you for a voyeur,” he says, at last.

He sounds broken, ragged, and the pain in Kala’s chest threatens to overwhelm her.

“I’m not,” she says, ignoring the roughness of her own voice. “You came to me first.”

Wolfgang’s cock twitches in his hand, and he laughs, dark and dangerous. “I can, if you want me to.”

Kala hesitates for a moment, then places her hands on his lax knees. She erases the inches between them until there are slivers of air only, until she can smell the beer and smoke on Wolfgang’s breath, feel the warmth of it as he pants.

“I never took you for a tease, either,” he tells her. His voice is naught but a whisper.

Kala, her head spinning, her knees bleeding, her body aching – Kala laughs. She leans in, brushes her lips over his and feels her heart clench when Wolfgang moans.

“Well,” she says, borrowing a touch of Lito’s sarcasm. “It seems you’ve been thinking quite a lot about me.”

Wolfgang’s answering laugh is a painful thing, but Kala swallows it, anyway.

It’s a mess, the thing they do: her hand joins his on his cock, and she feels him shudder. He doesn’t return her kisses, just rests his head on her shoulder as they stroke him together.

“You’re not here,” he tells her, even though his body is shaking. “You’re getting married.”

Kala sees the glint of Rajan’s ring on Ganesha’s alter; feels Nomi’s smile burning against her sore back. “That’s up to me,” she tells Wolfgang, squeezing the head of his cock. He whines, nearly crying out, and Kala is shamed by the way she smiles. “No one – not even you – can make my decisions for me.”

Her hands grow sticky when he comes, eyes still closed, brow still creased. His forehead digs into her shoulder, his breath hot on her breasts, and Kala aches in a whole new manner. Still, she brushes the sweat-soaked hair away from his face and murmurs his name as he comes down. Her hand stays on his cock until he bats her away, and even then, she just resettles it on one of his shaking legs.

Before she can say a word – before he can open his eyes – she is alone, back in Ganesha’s temple.

The room has grown dark, but the sun has not yet set – it lingers, casting long shadows that sprawl out from the horizon.

Kala grimaces, then rises to her feet. There is blood on the floral of her leggings, but it blends with the flower petals, so she is not ashamed.

She leaves Rajan’s ring on Ganesha’s alter. As she walks from the temple, she hears Nomi’s approving murmur in the back of her mind; the quiet press of her name against Wolfgang’s tongue.

Mumbai’s night is warm against her uncovered skin. Kala lifts her head to it and manages a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!


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